A Dangerous Game
by lilkyonkyon
Summary: Bain and Chiad ask Gaul to play Maidens' Kiss. Things inevitably go too far. Gaul/Chiad. TSR. Oneshot.


Shameless, I know. What can I say? Just enjoy.

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**A Dangerous Game**

**or "Gaul Discovers Both the Benefits and Setbacks of Working with Maidens of the Spear"**

Gaul did not have to open his eyes to know that the point of a spear was nestled between his chin and Adam's apple. Being an Aiel allowed him to recognize these things instinctively. Through the same means, he also knew that this spear was not wielded by someone who wanted to kill him. At least, not currently.

"Chiad," he acknowledged, eyes still shuttered. "Bain."

"I see you, Gaul," a voice responded simply. It was Bain who had said it; he could tell by the sticky sweetness of her voice, a sarcasm that oozed like honey in the heat of midday. The spear grew closer to his skin, close enough to draw blood if he so much as swallowed. His own spear he had foolishly put at his back; he could have heard a Trolloc—smelled it, even—from a mile away. He hadn't considered being pursued by his own kind. Bain continued, very innocently, "Would you like to play a game with us?"

He had heard of Maidens' Kiss—the game was infamous. By virtue of being of the _Shaarad_, and a _Shae'en M'taal_ to end it, he had never had the pleasure of being asked to partake. He wasn't quite sure if he ever wanted to play in the first place. But in this position, backed into a tree with a cold point of steel against his gullet, Gaul was more inclined to accept the invitation than not.

That wouldn't keep him from playing dumb.

"Dice?" he proffered. Chiad sniggered, but a second spear brushed the soft flesh underneath his chin, a dangerous caress.

"I think you know what we would rather play."

He allowed his eyes to slide open leisurely. Both of their faces hovered just before his, wearing matching smiles, like jackals. "Have it your way," he said at last.

His acceptance sent their free hands whirring, probably in an argument over which would go first. Gaul had only seen handtalk a few times, and he never wasted his eyes watching the conversations. He could only safely assume that when they pointed at him, they meant him. Nevertheless, he did not allow his eyes to wander from their meaningless gestures—the spear was much too close for him to care about anything else.

Bain laughed outright at something unsaid, and Chiad mirrored her mirth. "I am first," Bain declared, likely for his benefit alone. He had no time to prepare. As abruptly as she had said it, her mouth was on his, tight-lipped and cold. He wasn't sure of what he should do, so he sat there, a fool with his back pressed stiffly against a tree, eyes clenched shut only because he felt that was a part of kissing. It lasted only moments; Bain pulled away and the tips closed around his neck directly after. A losing round.

"My turn," Chiad announced. She advanced with a grin that he met with his trademark stoniness. Both spears pressed at his throat, close enough to shave him, and he couldn't afford another loss.

Yet something strange happened to him as he watched her near. Gaul couldn't guess at it. Bain's flat kiss had been simpler than he thought it would be. But then why did the flicker of Chiad's eyes unsettle him so? Despite not having moved, his breathing shallowed considerably, and the touch of her lips, however brief, was near torture.

Another loss.

"You can do better than that," Bain teased, twisting her spear playfully. It was now digging into his flesh, close to puncturing skin.

His eyes still fixed on Chiad in suspicious confusion, he muttered, "I will learn quickly. Stone Dogs always do."

"If that were true," Bain lazily countered, "you would have learned how to move without making a ruckus by now. A snoring Trolloc could hear your approach."

"I am not afraid to dance with any Trolloc, unlike some."

Chiad stifled her laughter, while Bain scowled. "It is my turn again," the surly girl announced. "Let us see if you will fare better, Gaul."

Her approach was slower, but no less startling. When her mouth met his, it went slack momentarily, allowing her tongue to dart out and nearly make him jump out of his skin. Tentatively, he mimicked, doing his best to learn as he had promised. When he flicked the tip of his tongue against her bottom lip, she pulled back abruptly. After a moment of searching his face blandly, she said, "Better." The spears loosened. Gaul took a deeper breath and waited. He would not lose another round. Bain motioned for Chiad to take her turn, which the Maiden did with alacrity.

Gaul felt his chest tighten with expectation when she dipped to meet his parted lips. She allowed her own pair to open, and when the softness of her tongue traced just behind his teeth, he had to suppress a groan. She adjusted her neck and delved deeper, fighting his tongue with hers—it was becoming harder to control himself. He tried to pull back, but with his head and neck firmly against the bark of the oak, he could do nothing but struggle.

Her mouth reluctantly separated from his after an eternity, and she allowed a small exhale as she drew back. He was having more difficulty catching his breath than she; he felt dizzy, yet not. After a moment, Gaul noticed that his fists were clenched in the grass around him. He forced them to relax, maintaining a carefully impassive face all the while.

The spears loosened still.

Bain's face was strangely blank, even by his standards. "Let us check your progress," she said, adjusting her grip on the spear as she came forward. When she seized his mouth for the third time, her tongue promptly collided with his. She pulled back only moments later, nipping his lip so sharply that he was afraid it would bleed. Bain was chuckling as she took her place beside Chiad. "Close the spears. We will see how he fares with you."

Both points moved in, but he still had room to breathe. He better understood what they wanted from him in the game; still, it was hard to keep up with their movements. He hated failure in anything, but especially to them—he would not permit himself to lose. He moved his attentions to Chiad, calmly waiting for her to begin.

Unlike her spear-sister, Chiad did not announce her intentions. Maybe there was no need to. Her approach was more obvious than Bain's; she locked eyes with him as she inched forwards, crouched, a tigress stalking a lamb. Her spear never wavered. While he watched, the odd feeling invaded his mind again. His pulse quickened even further, and his hands felt clammy, as if he were dancing in battle, yet he hadn't budged from his uncomfortable seat against the tree. She came nearer still, and, quite suddenly, he wanted to run, he wanted to fight—he'd seen the same things happen to wetlanders in battle, but he'd never experienced the emotion before. Another thought flitted through his mind: he imagined himself closing the distance between his lips and her own. But why? And why did that idea nearly stop his heart? The name hovered in his mind briefly—_trepidation_—before her lips touched his own.

As soon as he knew the feeling, it disappeared.

Every other thought did, too. Her lips, so yielding, gave way to her warm mouth, inviting him to take. He explored with his tongue as they had before him, curving it around hers, pulsing it gently, afraid to make a mistake. His hands had somehow found her waist before his head even knew she had moved closer, close enough to feel her hand as it traced his chest; her legs, her body, Light, she was all around him. His eyes had closed of their own accord and he didn't know why he couldn't feel the spears anymore, and he didn't care either way. He only cared about her pressed against him, and her low moan of pleasure that sent his head clear out to the sun, and further, oh Light—

She broke the seal between them without warning, and climbed away from him as gracefully as she had approached. Gaul gathered his bearings in an instant. The flesh underneath his chin was nicked, but not bleeding freely. He straightened his _shoufa_ with every ounce of dignity he could muster. Chiad's spear lay useless beside him, and Bain's was held by her side. The girl herself stood back, seemingly miffed, but otherwise intact. She signed rapidly, to which Chiad shrugged. Then Chiad said, "That is game." Her voice was startlingly calm. Even her smile was bland. How could she manage, when he could feel every bead of moisture on his skin, every beat of his racing heart, each tug on the pit of his stomach?

She leisurely moved away and started a small fire to cook a meal. Her back was to him, so he could not see her face, and he refused to move for such a simple reason as watching her eyes.

"Interesting."

His gaze snapped to Bain, who had taken a full step towards him without earning his attention. _Fool! Never lose your senses to a woman!_ "What is interesting?" he asked. His voice was as it always was, level and aloof, though he wondered about his countenance.

"It's not often a man wins at this game," Bain shrugged in response. "Especially a dog." She was still thoughtful as she moved towards the fire.

They kept their distance from him the rest of the night, alternating between hushed whispers and handtalk. Every so often, Bain would watch him from her seat frigidly, considering him with those cold blue eyes. Chiad avoided looking at him at all.

The flickering fire, and the sound of wildlife, and one pair of eyes on him when he'd rather have the other…. _But why?_

Sleep did not come to him readily that night.

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I hope you enjoyed it! Please review and let me know.


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